


Newly Minted

by punk_rock_yuppie



Series: You and Me and Baby Makes... [1]
Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Anxiety, Banter, Canon Divergence, Comfort, Fluff, Get together fic, M/M, Pregnancy, Support, Trans Male Character, Trans Male Pregnancy, Trans Sonny, ambiguous setting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:07:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24583552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punk_rock_yuppie/pseuds/punk_rock_yuppie
Summary: Sonny wakes up justknowing.
Relationships: Rafael Barba/Dominick "Sonny" Carisi Jr.
Series: You and Me and Baby Makes... [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1821118
Comments: 6
Kudos: 88





	Newly Minted

**Author's Note:**

> _brushes the dust off my participation in this fandom_ long time no barisi! i've been rewatching svu recently cuz it's a comfort show for me, and of course i've fallen back in love w/ barisi. this originally started as a genderbent!Carisi fic 2 years ago, that i reworked to be trans!Carisi instead. really stoked to post this! 
> 
> disclaimer: sonny's trans experience is based on my own and those of my trans friends. i'm not super familiar w/ the side effects of testosterone aside from feedback from a friend, but google does say it doesn't entirely remove the ability to get pregnant, so we're operating in that little margin. besides, who comes to fic for reality? 
> 
> big thanks to hannah for beta'ing even tho she's not even up to barba's seasons in svu yet. 
> 
> enjoy!

Sonny doesn’t believe that old wives’ tale: that you can just wake up one day and _know_ , without a doubt and without any explanation, that you’re knocked up. It just always seemed too ludicrous, too impossible—too fantastical, even, like something out of a fairy tale. Even when his ma sat him down, back when he still went by _Dominique_ and had shoulder-length hair, and told him how she _just knew_ , he didn’t believe it. Even when Bella, after the mess with Tommy’s trial had settled, told him that she _had a feeling_ , he couldn’t fathom it. Even when Rollins, reluctant as she had been initially, told him she _knew_ , even when she tried so hard to ignore it, he’d just rolled his eyes. Sonny Carisi firmly, emphatically doesn’t believe in that silly old myth. 

At least, until this morning, when he’d woken up with an uneasy feeling swirling in his gut. He’d just _known_ , beyond a shadow of a doubt. So he had spent the morning running down to the bodega on his corner for orange juice and a couple pregnancy tests. He hadn’t even felt that embarrassed when the cashier had cocked an eyebrow at him. Five pregnancy tests were maybe excessive, but Sonny had been in a panic.

He’s still in a panic now, his only companions the five used pregnancy tests all with the same result and a half-finished gallon of orange juice. He staggers over to the edge of his tub and sits on the cold porcelain. He hides his face in his hands first, then rakes his fingers through his hair. He bounces one leg anxiously for a few minutes until his heart rate slows to something more normal, less like a panic attack. 

He’s still consumed with thoughts of, “holy shit, what am I going to do?” But he can at least stand up without his knees giving out, and he can walk without feeling dizzy. He gets dressed in a daze, forgoes a tie because the one thing he can’t do is make his fingers work. Liv might give him a bit of hell over it but he can’t really bring himself to give a shit. 

Before he leaves, he remembers to toss all five pregnancy tests in the garbage and stashes the gallon of orange juice in the fridge. As he locks up his apartment, Sonny decides he’ll just...deal with it later. There’s probably a god-awful case waiting for him at the precinct, and he can’t afford to be distracted. He’ll deal with the whole mess inside his uterus later, when there’s more time. He’s made up his mind. 

That resolution lasts right up until he steps foot into the office. The precinct isn’t bustling with activity yet—Rollins is nowhere to be found, and Sonny gets the feeling it’s not because she’s working a case—and Sonny’s thoughts come flooding back to him. With no work crisis to distract him, all he’s left with is his own personal crisis. He stops short when he first enters the bullpen, trips over his feet as his thoughts get tangled in his head, and he staggers over to his desk hoping no one saw. 

A quick glance around tells him Fin definitely saw, but the older man just shrugs and looks away. Sonny swallows nervously and boots up his computer. It takes him three tries to get his password in, and by the time his desktop screen reflects back at him—a picture of Bella and his niece—he realizes there’s a shadow looming behind him.

He swivels around in his chair. “Hey, Lieu,” he greets. 

Olivia raises an eyebrow at him. “Carisi,” she greets in turn. “You alright?” She asks it in that soft but firm way. It’s the way she talks to victims, sometimes. Gentle, maybe a little leading, comforting but brooking no room for argument too. Carisi swallows again, his throat suddenly dry. Olivia goes the extra mile and places a hand on his shoulder. 

He opens his mouth to reply but nothing comes out.

Olivia purses her lips and says, “Why don’t we step into my office?” 

“Yeah, okay,” he says hoarsely. He stumbles as he stands and Liv guides him to her office. It’s unnecessary, really, for her to keep her hand on his shoulder like he’s a child. But he doesn’t protest, even as he feels eyes burning holes in his back. The door shuts with a snap behind them, and Liv only moves away from Sonny to draw the blinds shut. 

Sonny shoves his hands in his pockets and stares at his shoes. They’re scuffed, he should polish them up, even though they’ll just be scuffed up again next time he chases down a perp.

Olivia leans against her desk, arms crossed. “Are you alright?” She asks again. Her voice is still soft, painfully delicate. Sonny bristles at first—he’s not going to _break_ —but then he thinks about the panic he felt when he woke up this morning and nearly collapses from the force of it.

“Can I sit?” he asks. Olivia nods and gestures to the chair right in front of her. Sonny practically falls into the chair and repeats the motion from this morning: hiding his face in his hands, then raking his fingers through his hair. “I’m pregnant,” he says eventually. It barely comes out as more than a rasp, but Olivia hears him just fine. Sonny knows she hears him, because she sits up a little straighter and her arms fall to her sides. 

“Carisi…” The confusion is evident in her voice and Sonny starts rambling before he can think better of it. 

“It’s not, y’know, typical. Bein’ on testosterone and all, it makes it pretty unlikely. But it’s not a zero chance, and I—I was stupid, we should’a used a condom but we didn’t. And y’know, I always wanted kids, so I never had a hysterectomy cuz I wanted to keep that option open, I guess. I didn’t think it would happen the first time we slept together but I guess that’s just my luck, huh?” 

Sonny looks up, mouth dry from rambling, to find Olivia staring back at him in shock. He winces. “Sorry, Lieu,” he mumbles, “that’s...that’s probably too much info.”

“It’s fine, Carisi,” Olivia says, dismissive but not unkind. “How far along?”

“No clue, I just took the home test this morning. I...I don’t even know what I’m gonna do. If I’m gonna keep it, or…” Instinctively, he lays a hand over his stomach. “I mean, can you imagine me walkin’ around the office like Rollins? Out to here?” He holds his hand out far in front of him and gives a shaky laugh.

Olivia doesn’t so much as giggle. “You know I wouldn’t let anyone give you crap about this, Carisi. First sign of someone picking a fight, and they’re gone. Not you.”

Carisi nods. “Still, though. I’d be a tabloid headline, wouldn’t I? Like that one guy, Beattie? Especially since I’m a cop. Jeez, I’m not even dating the guy, Liv. We just went out for drinks, one thing led to another, and…” He presses his hands against his face again until spots dance in his eyes. “I don’t even know what to tell him.”

Olivia finally takes the other seat and scoots the chair closer to Sonny. She lays a hand on his shoulder again, squeezing gently. “You don’t have to tell him,” she says, reassuring, “but for what it’s worth, I think he’d like to know.” She doesn’t wait for him to reply. “As far as tabloids...I can’t say what would or wouldn’t happen. We all know the tabloids are vultures. But I told you, I won’t let anything happen to you if I can help it. If you need to take desk duty, bed rest, whatever it is, we will make it happen.”

“We’re short-staffed,” Sonny protests. 

Olivia scoffs. “We’ve been short-staffed for twenty years, another nine months isn’t going to undo us.” Olivia smiles at him briefly but her expression sobers quickly. “If you need to take the weekend off to figure out what you want to do, you’ve got it.”

Sonny’s leg starts to bounce anxiously again. “I...I don’t even know where to start. Do I call my ma? If I don’t keep it, it’ll break her heart. She’s been dying for me to settle down.” Sonny shakes his head. “Or my sisters? They’re such gossips, ma would know before supper anyway.”

“Breathe, Carisi,” Olivia demands. “Just breathe for a second.”

Sonny nods and does as he’s told. He breathes in, and out, in, and out, until he feels less like crawling into a hole for the rest of his life. When he speaks, though, his voice still comes out a little shaky, a little watery. “What do I do?”

He doesn’t need to look to know Olivia’s got that sad expression on her face, the one that’s equal parts pity and resignation. He feels bad to ask her, like he’s putting more on her already full plate, but he really…he really doesn’t know what else to do. 

“Take the weekend,” she says, not a suggestion but an order, “and call your PCP as soon as possible. Set up an appointment, find out how far along you are. You’ve probably still got time before you’ve got to...to make a hard decision,” she says it lightly, and Sonny almost wants to laugh.

He doesn’t, but he does smile at her.

The grip on his shoulder turns into a gentle pat. “Call Rafael,” she concludes, “tonight, or tomorrow. Tell him.”

Sonny can’t help it—he whips his head from staring forlornly at his hands to gaping at his boss in shock. “Excuse me?”

Olivia cocks an eyebrow at him again. “Rafa and I have been friends a long time, now. He spared me the dirty details, but I know when he’s got a particular pep in his step.”

Sonny can feel his face flooding with embarrassment. He groans and slaps his hands over his face _again_ to hide his mottled blush. “This is worse than my ma knowing I went to lover’s lane with Kenny Fitch in tenth grade.” 

Olivia laughs, finally, a bright sound. Her hand falls from his shoulder and she stands. She holds out her hand to help Sonny to his feet and this time, once he’s upright, he doesn’t sway. “You don’t have to leave early today unless you want to, but as far as this weekend goes, I don’t want to see your face around here unless it’s a city-wide emergency.”

He nods obediently. “You got it, Lieu.”

Olivia walks around her desk and falls into her usual seat and Sonny takes it for the dismissal it is. He turns toward her office door but before he can pull it open, Liv speaks again. “Carisi,” she says, halting him. “I know you said it was only drinks, but I’ll let you in on a secret.”

Hand on the doorknob, Sonny twists to look back at his boss.

Liv smiles again. “Rafael likes you more than he’d care to admit. This won’t scare him off. It’ll scare him, sure, just like it scares you. But he won’t cut and run.” 

Sonny’s palms sweat and while he’s not entirely sure he believes her, he nods. “Thanks, Lieu,” he says. The office door falls shut behind him as he steps back into the bullpen. Rollins is at her desk and looks up as he steps closer. but it’s Fin who speaks first.

“What was that about?” He asks. 

“Just some personal stuff, Lieu’s helping me out.” Sonny hedges the truth for now. His coworkers know he’s trans, but they don’t need to know he’s pregnant. Not yet, at least. Rollins will give him hell for not telling her first, but he’ll make it up to her with a night at Forlini’s. Fin won’t care, other than maybe to offer some grandfatherly advice.

Sonny shakes off the thoughts for now and falls into his chair. 

“Everything okay?” Rollins asks after a beat of awkward silence.

When Sonny nods, says, “Yeah, s’fine,” he even believes it a little bit. He shoots her a grin that seems to reassure her, and then Sonny reaches for his phone. 

_Dinner at my place tonight? I’ll cook._

It hardly takes a moment to tap out the text, and Sonny sets his phone aside, face down. He prepares himself to wait an eternity for a reply—Barba’s not great at replying to text on his free days, let alone on a day when he’s due in court. Sonny pulls up some case notes he needs to polish up, along with Facebook and a couple other mind-numbing sites to get him through what seems like a slow day. 

His phone buzzes sooner than he expects and he jumps a little too quick to answer it. He ignores Rollins’ scoff as he pulls up the message.

_Does 8 work? I’ll bring the wine._

Sonny laughs—he won’t be drinking any of the wine, but Barba doesn’t need to know that yet—and fires back an affirmative. There’s a spike of anxiety in his chest, but with it is a burst of excitement, too.

-

Sonny opens the door at a quarter past eight with an apron still tied around his waist and flower caked on his forearms. “C’mon in,” he tells Barba, stepping back to let the other man into his apartment. “I just put dinner in the oven, shouldn’t take long.”

“Are you sure _you_ aren’t dinner?” Barba teases with a pointed glance at Sonny’s arms.

The comment makes Sonny a little hot under the collar, but his nerves keep most of it at bay. Sonny shakes his head good-naturedly. “Not tonight,” he says with a wink. He may be nervous, but that doesn’t mean he can’t still flirt back. He’s keenly aware of Barba’s eyes on him as they wander into the kitchen. Sonny rinses his hands and arms but doesn’t remove the apron quite yet.

“Corkscrew?” Barba asks with a glance around the tiny kitchen. Sonny digs around in his silverware drawer and wrestles to get the last cork off the screw before passing to Barba. While the other man opens the wine, Sonny grabs two glasses even though he only sets one beside Barba. The other one, he fills with water and sips at as Barba pours himself a glass.

“Not having any?” Barba asks with a quirked brow.

“Shouldn’t you let it air out or whatever?” Sonny retorts.

Barba rolls his eyes. “Were it a bottle that cost me more than fifteen dollars, sure. I know you’re no wine snob, Sonny.” 

It still makes his knees a little weak when Barba calls him that. He only does when they’re alone, either working cases late in Barba’s office, or getting a drink after said late nights, or, most recently, in Barba’s bedroom. Just the thought of their night together has heat pooling in Sonny’s stomach, heat that can’t be quelled even by the knowledge that he’s got a bun in the oven. 

Speaking of—Sonny sets down his water and turns to check on the homemade pizza cooking away. It shouldn’t be more than a minute or two so he reaches for the oven mitts. Barba’s still watching him from the edge of the kitchen, sipping at his wine and openly ogling Sonny’s ass. 

“One day,” Sonny says as he pulls the pie from the oven, “I’m gonna live in a place with a nice pizza oven.” He says it wistfully, dreamily; it’s been something he’s wished for as long as he can remember. He sets the pan on the stovetop and peels off the oven mitts. “Needs to cool for a second.”

“You mean you don’t want to burn your mouth on molten cheese?” Barba says with a smirk. “You might be smarter than I gave you credit for, detective.”

“C’mon, you’re in my apartment, least you can do is keep callin’ me Sonny.”

Barba’s smirk softens almost to a smile. “Fair enough,” he allows. He watches Sonny, hawkeyed, as he picks up his water again and takes another sip. Once the glass is drained and Sonny turns to the sink for a refill, Barba speaks up. “Still no wine?” 

Sonny doesn’t look at him as he refills his glass. “I can’t,” he says. He knows he’s being cryptic, and he’s not going to lie if Barba asks him outright. 

But Barba doesn’t. He hums and pours himself another glass. “More for me,” he says with a shrug.

Sonny laughs, a weight lifting off his chest. “Go sit, I’ll bring it out.”

“Your mother raised you to be a very good host,” Barba remarks as he takes his glass and the bottle of wine into Sonny’s living room. “Where do I leave the Yelp review?”

“You can stamp it on my ass,” Sonny calls after him. He fishes the pizza cutter out of another drawer and drags it roughly across the still-hot pie. It’s cooled enough that he can touch it with his bare hands without burning himself too bad. He dishes them up with two slices each—leaving a final slice for them to inevitably fight over later on. He just barely manages to juggle the two plates and his glass of water over to the living room, where Barba helps him once he’s close enough.

“You wanna watch something?” Sonny asks as he reaches for the remote. His water sits on the table beside Barba’s glass of wine. “I think I’ve got some Ally McBeal on my DVR.”

Barba chokes on his bite of pizza but recovers quickly, before Sonny can even try to snap a picture of the man being anything less than dignified. Even with his suit jacket stripped off, even with a plate of homemade pizza, Barba looks about a million times better than Sonny could ever hope to. Sonny shakes his head at himself and takes a bite of a slice. 

“No, I’m fine,” Barba snarks back. “I’m much more curious about what inspired you to invite me over for dinner.”

Sonny blinks. The cheese stretches from his mouth to the slice and he scrambles to get the rest of it in his mouth. He’s sure he looks undignified, gangly, but Barba just watches him with the same intense stare as before. “Probably the same thing that inspired you to say yes.”

Barba hums again. Sonny loves and hates that hum. Loves it because it speaks to Barba’s confidence, his certainty in himself. Hates it because it makes Sonny feel like he’s on the witness stand about to be torn to shreds by Barba’s flawless tactics. 

Sonny focuses his energy on wolfing down his two slices of pizza instead, pointedly ignoring the voice in his head telling him he’s eating for two now. Once his plate is clear—and Barba isn’t far behind, something Sonny can’t help but preen at—he reaches for his water and drains that too. 

“Sure you don’t wanna watch something?” Sonny asks as he resists the urge to bounce his leg anxiously. “Got some Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives on DVR too.” 

The hand landing on his thigh startles Sonny out of reaching for the remote again. His empty plate and glass are on the coffee table and now Barba’s hand is on his thigh. The touch doesn’t drift higher like Sonny expects, but rather down to his knee. A reassuring squeeze, not so dissimilar from Olivia this morning.

Sonny shuts that train of thought down with a quiet groan. 

“Is something wrong?” Barba finally asks.

When Sonny manages to look at Barba, he’s surprised to see those green eyes so wide with concern.

“I mean,” Sonny starts, then winces, “no, no, nothing’s wrong. Not really. Just, uh.” Sonny drops his gaze to Barba’s hand again, which hasn’t moved. His touch is warm and comforting and Sonny wants to be wrapped up in it forever. “We’ve kinda been dancing around each other a while, haven’t we?”

Barba clears his throat. “Perhaps,” he admits. “I think I can be forgiven for thinking a man ten years my senior wouldn’t be interested in me.”

“Please, like you didn’t know I was mooning over you from the start.” Sonny lays his hand over Barba’s and links their fingers loosely. “That night,” he starts, stops, starts again, “with us.”

“The night we had sex,” Barba says blandly, although Sonny’s gratified to see a faint flush on the older man’s cheeks. 

“Yeah, that.” Sonny ducks his head and takes a deep breath. “We didn’t use a condom.”

Barba blinks at him. “No,” he agrees slowly, “we didn’t. We agreed not to.”

“I know,” Sonny says hurriedly, holding up one hand in an almost surrender-like motion. “I know, we agreed. I,” he falters, blush burning his skin, “I wanted to feel you.”

Barba clears his throat again. “Well. Good.”

Sonny laughs, a little breathless and a little hysterical. “Yeah, good. But, uh. I mean, normally it’s pretty unlikely, right? The testosterone makes it pretty freakin’ close to impossible. But I guess I’m just lucky or something, cuz, uh…” Sonny shifts on the couch. He’s still got a hand linked with Barba but he can’t bring himself to look him in the eyes. “I’m pregnant.”

Barba’s hand tightens on his momentarily before he pulls away. Sonny’s heart skips a painful beat and he whips his head up to stare at him. Barba’s surprise is evident on his face, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. It’s maybe the least put together Sonny’s ever seen him, sex notwithstanding. 

“You’re...pregnant.” Barba states it like a fact he can’t quite believe. 

“Yeah. I mean, I haven’t gone to a doctor yet, I just found out today, but I took five pregnancy tests at home and none of them came up negative and I just had this _feeling_ , ya know? When I woke up this morning, I just _knew_. My mom always said she knew, and Bella said the same thing. Rollins too. I always thought it was bullshit, but...but it’s not.” Sonny swallows and sits up a little straighter. He doesn’t dare reach for Barba again, not until he’s sure he won’t be rebuffed. They may have been dancing around each other for years, but one night of sex doesn’t necessarily change anything. Even with Sonny being knocked up. 

“I…” Barba’s looking at his hands now as if they did it. As if he’s not quite sure how they ended up here. “I don’t know what to say.”

The words sting a little bit. Some part of Sonny had hoped Barba might be excited, delighted even. Some part of Sonny had hoped for that beautiful, rom-com moment where Barba would sweep Sonny into his arms and they’d ride off into the sunset. But he’s known from the moment he walked out of Lieu’s office this morning that that wasn’t possible. 

So Sonny nods. “I get it, yeah. I wasn’t really sure how to react, either. Lieu said I should tell you before, uh, making any big decisions. I’ve got an appointment with my PCP first thing Monday morning and Liv gave me the weekend off to get my head right.” His leg starts to bounce again, the motion making the couch squeak under him. 

“Olivia told you to tell me?”

“Uh, yeah. I wasn’t sure if you’d wanna know. It was just one night, and it was my idea to skip the condom, and I don’t even know for sure if I’m gonna keep it. I mean, I probably am, but, y’know, it’s not gonna be easy. I’m scared to death, honestly.” 

Barba’s touch on his leg startles him again. This time it lands on his bouncing leg and the touch quells the motion. “I’m glad you told me,” he starts.

Relief washes over Sonny like a tidal wave. “Oh thank god, I really thought you were gonna flip out or something.”

“Oh, I am,” Barba assures him, “but just...internally. This is a big thing to process.” Barba laughs and runs a free hand through his hair, leaving the normally well-combed do thoroughly mussed. “You want to keep it?”

“I think so, yeah,” Sonny replies softly. “It’s scary as shit, but there’s a reason I never got a hysterectomy, ya know? And...And I know you and I have only had one night together, but I’ve liked you for a lot longer than that. I’m not saying we gotta get married or move in together or god knows what else, but if you want to be there for it, then I want you there. Hell, I want you there even if you’re thinking of fleeing the country.”

“I’m not going to flee the country,” Barba says, “at least, not until I have to meet your parents.”

A surprised laugh bursts from Sonny’s lips. “My ma will love you, I’m sure.” His heart is beating rapidly again but this time it’s not just fear or nerves—it’s excitement filling the space between his ribs once more. “I’m not the first kid to get knocked up outta wedlock anyway.”

Barba snorts and shakes his head. He scoots closer on the couch and his hand moves from Sonny’s leg to cup his cheek instead. “Good to know I won’t be besmirching the Carisi name or anything.” 

“Nah,” Sonny agrees as he leans into Barba’s space. He doesn’t kiss him quite yet, though. “You’re really okay with this?”

“I’m terrified,” Barba says honestly, earnest in a way Sonny’s seldom heard even as they’ve grown closer. “This isn’t something I ever expected to deal with, between work and—”

“—And how you hate almost everyone you come in contact with?” Sonny interjects with a grin.

Barba levels him with an unimpressed stare that quickly melts into one of amusement. “Yes, that.” His thumb strokes over Sonny’s cheek, just under his eye. “But I am okay with this, really. As long as you’ll allow me to take you out to a proper dinner.”

Warmth blooms in Sonny’s chest and soothes him down to his toes, which curl in the scratchy carpet. “I’d like that, counselor.” 

Barba’s lips twist. “You should probably start calling me Rafael outside the bedroom.”

Sonny’s heart leaps again and he can’t squash the desire to grin, wide and delighted. “Yeah?” He inches even closer, until he’s sliding into Barba’s— _Rafael’s_ lap. He’s avoided calling the man by his first name, even in his head. Sonny was so scared to get too close for so long, to overstep a boundary, an invisible line in the sand. Now, though, as he curls his arms around Rafael’s shoulders and cages him between his thighs, Sonny’s concerns feel like a faraway dream. 

“Yes,” Rafael hums agreeably, tilting his head back in a clear request for a kiss.

Sonny obliges him, dipping his head to kiss Rafael deeply, languidly. Every passing second has Sonny feeling lighter, like he could float into the sky if he weren’t tethered by Rafael’s hands on his waist. “Rafi,” he breathes as the kiss breaks, before biting his bottom lip. 

“Sonny,” Rafael breathes back against his lips, sounding just as dazed. He sounds just as amazed as Sonny feels, just as scared and eager. 

Sonny knows, as he bends to kiss Rafael again and again, that he loves him. Just as he knew when he woke up this morning that he was knocked up against all odds, he knows he’s in love with Rafi and Rafi’s in love with him. 

Sonny knows, despite what he said, that he’ll ask Rafael to marry him, someday; he knows they’ll move in together, probably sooner rather than later. Sonny knows that Rafael will want to help decorate the nursery and that he’ll want to come to as many appointments as he can. Sonny knows that they’re going to fight and argue and inevitably come back together, and he knows that their parents are going to fuss over them both, as will the squad. 

Sonny knows all this and more.

He smiles against Rafael’s lips and it prompts the other man to pull back and ask, “Sonny?” 

“Just thinking,” Sonny says, voice barely above a whisper. 

Rafael smirks. “Well, don’t hurt yourself.” 

Sonny rolls his eyes before kissing the smirk off Rafael’s face. It’s hardly the first time he’s heard something like that, and it won’t be the last. 

Sonny just knows it. 


End file.
